


shatter

by orphan_account



Series: even better 'verse [3]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, I hate titles, M/M, Pre-Slash, au: jim was born deaf, brief mentions of a canonically abusive stepfather re: frank, im sorry maybe i'll write some kissing later??, off-screen violence, set before STID, so here you get one that's in all lowercase like the hipster i am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-09-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 08:58:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>oh, man, this verse. this verse is so fun to play around with. i hope you guys like this part, and maybe there'll be more...and as always, kudos and comments are so, so appreciated.</p>
    </blockquote>





	shatter

**Author's Note:**

> oh, man, this verse. this verse is so fun to play around with. i hope you guys like this part, and maybe there'll be more...and as always, kudos and comments are so, so appreciated.

"Solve for x," Professor Herara signed, handing Jim a piece of silky-smooth chalk that immediately stained his fingertips white. Herara turned and walked over to the chalkboard a few feet over, where Gaila and a Vulcan woman were scribbling furiously, and watched their progress. 

They hadn't done this at Jim's high school. It wasn't a very prestigious place-they couldn't afford holo-boards to write on, or any other shiny tech. However, the small school was affordable and close to home, so Winona had packed her son off every morning with his lunch, and hoped for the best. He spent most of his time sleeping in class, doing what his gruff English teacher preferred to call 'talking back', and, to his teachers' utter surprise, acing every single one of his finals. 

But at Starfleet, he was in for the long run, instead of just counting down until when he could get his GED. So Jim looked at the long block of numbers and variables on the chalkboard above him, and started to write. Every student was working on their own, but that didn't mean he could afford to mess up. Herara gravitated around the room, sometimes nodding or frowning, as the cadets squinted and calculated their individual problems. 

An hour later, Jim had chalk dust on every part of his body, and a chalkboard full of equations. He stepped back, stupidly proud of himself, and got to see Herara's eyes sweep over his work approvingly before the bell rung. Not that he could hear it, but every day it rang, his classmates scrambled to the door, so he got the message. 

At least that's one problem he could do. Last night was a bad one, the kind of night where nightmares made him feel exposed if he wasn't wrapped thoroughly in his blankets. This was coupled with the urge to get up and just run away, anywhere, as paranoid as it was-Illogical, as Spock would say. But Jim didn't go anywhere, of course. He shut his eyes, and when that didn't work, went to the beat-up punching bag in the gym two doors down, where he could let out some steam. 

Bones tosses and turns in his sleep. If something bothers him, he'll jerk in the quiet darkness of their dorms, like his body's trying suddenly, violently, to get away from something. But when Jim's upset, he's all quiet. He curls up in his bed and usually doesn't get more than a couple hours of sleep.

This time, the sunlight caught him with tired hollows under his eyes, and a bruised smile that made Leo wince on the inside. Neither of them said anything, though. Leo quietly made a cup of tea for Jim-non-caffeinated, because caffeine and Jim is the worst idea in the whole quadrant. Soon, the room was filled with the soothing smell of chamomile and sweet spices. 

Bones had gotten his own breakfast ready, but not before Jim gave him a grateful smile. While Bones got his coffee from the replicator, Jim's comm started to vibrate incessantly, reminding him he had Xenolinguistics in five minutes. He fumbled with the buttons, muttering under his breath, "Fine, I get it, just stop it already, oh my God."

More often than not, this was how their mornings went. Slipping into his seat in the Bio room, Jim wondered when his life had become so predictable. 

Class began, but he found himself spacing out, thinking instead about the car and the canyon in Iowa. Jim always remembered strange things about his childhood whenever he had nightmares-most of the time, the two were connected. 

On that sunny day, he had driven until it looked like he was gonna pull a Thelma and Louise off the rocky edge, only he didn't have a partner in crime. Nobody to risk his life for but himself. It was just him, all alone in the shining metal antique, going faster and faster. 

Pulling his eyes from the notes on his desk, Jim looked around at the cadets around him. They all sat dutifully in their seats, scribbling as the professor pointed at holo-screens of different alien bodies. During class, Jim could never forget that Starfleet was a military institution. There were strict rules about everything-you were expected to put on your reds every morning, complete with the little golden insignia pinned by the collar, and to salute your superiors. 

You had to call every person by their title, whether it be Lieutenant, Ensign, Cadet, or Admiral. There was a huge tangle of formality and respect required, and that meant thousands of men, women and others needed to be very careful. Sure, there were moments where they broke the rules-yesterday Gary had come in late to Xenolinguistics in a flutter of hurriedly-gathered papers and books, only to trip on his way through the door. There were some giggles, until the professor had cleared his throat. 

There were also, of course, cadets who slept in class or came in hungover; kids whose comms went off in the middle of lectures, playing obscenely loud music. That was almost unavoidable. Hell, some of those kids were Jim himself, though he didn't spend nearly as much time in a bottle as gossip would have it, thank you very much.

But for the most part, Starfleet was very carefully ordered, and it always made Jim a little anxious to be held to such expectations. He had spent most of his life being loud and uncaring, but at the Academy he could get in trouble just for not calling someone 'Sir'. 

After squinting at a picture of what was either a diagram of a head or some sort of hilariously big eyeball, Jim looked up and noticed that his classmates had turned their attention away. Even the professor had stopped, and his assistant's hands were no longer signing out his words.

Bones stood at the door, PADD in hand. Jim met his eyes, wanting to ask what the hell he thought he was doing, interrupting a class. It was the last one of the day, but that didn't mean the professor wasn't going to be upset at the intrusion. If he got any higher-ups angry, Bones could get his travel time outside campus restricted, meaning he wouldn't get to visit Joanna and Jocelyn for a while. Jim had caught him vidding the two women the other day, laughing at some joke Jocelyn had made. What was he risking that for? 

"Cadet McCoy, is there a reason you have interrupted my class?" the professor said icily. Jim found the interpreter's eyes and signed, "Tell me what they're saying." She nodded, though she looked just as surprised as the other students, and began to sign. 

Normally, this would be a cadet's cue to beg forgiveness, maybe cry a little. But Bones didn't apologize; another thing Jim liked about him: he was one of the rule-breakers, too. Maybe not cliff-diving material, but still. Leo put on the same contained facade as the rest of them, but reluctantly, and only with the barest of formalities. 

"Yes, professor. I'm afraid I need to take one of your students. Medical emergency." Bones' voice was equally as crisp as the professor's. He stepped forward to hand his PADD to the older man, who scowled at what he saw. "Cadet Kirk. You have leave to go. Essays will be due tomorrow. Do not forget it," the professor warned. 

Jim got up, aware of the whispers around him as he gathered his things.

The sound of the professor's voice rose again, then faded away as Bones closed the door behind them. "Bones," Jim said, eyes twinkling. "Don't you 'Bones' me," Bones said, giving him Glare #13: I'm Not Really Mad, But I've Forgotten How to Smile. "I didn't get you out of class for kicks. Something happened to Hikaru," he said. 

Jim's grin dropped from his face. "What? What do you mean?" Jim wasn't exactly best friends with the guy who'd piloted the Enterprise impromptu during the Narada incident, but they had been spending more time together with the rest of the crew. He knew when Hikaru's birthday was, that he had a twin sister in the Federation Peace Corps, and that he loved flying-at least, when it wasn't in a life-or-death situation. 

He knew that Hikaru, like many of the survivors, was still haunted by the last year, but that he was still going to complete his final year in the Academy, along with the rest of them. They would all be with Jim again, on the Enterprise. And that was all he really wanted. 

Bones started to walk, and Jim followed, though he didn't know where they were going. "He got hurt sparring," Leo explained, expression unusually gentle-Jim realized with a jolt that it was the look he used when talking to the family of a patient. "Some cadet went beserk during fencing practice, stabbed him twice before security could get there." 

"Shit," Jim said. His jaw clenched. "What the hell happened?" Bones could hear the anger in his voice. Jim stopped short as they arrived at the white doors of Medical, which constantly swung open and shut as doctors in white uniforms streamed in and out. There wasn't a crowd, exactly-certainly any cadets waiting around to see what happened would get in trouble. 

But Nyota stood at the doors, holding Chekov's arm. The way she was standing made it clear that any Admiral that tried to get her back to work would be joining her friend in Medical. Chekov looked pale and drawn; he was Sulu's roomate, after all, and probably knew him the best. 

"We don't know, Jim," Bones said, frustration evident in his eyes. 

Nyota's fingers were clenched tight, where they gripped Chekov's sleeve. 

\---

"What the fuck happened?" Jim demanded, fists curled at his side. Pike gave a weary sigh as he walked over. He was getting better with the cane, just like Jim knew he would. But that wasn't what he was thinking about right now. What was burned into his eyes right now was the sight of Sulu in the biobed, unconscious and surrounded on all sides by bright white. They'd changed him into a hospital gown, since his cadet uniform was ruined; dark red all over the brighter uniform. 

"He's human. First year, grades almost as good as yours," Pike said, ever calm. "His name is Cadet Russell. He was taking a self-defense class when Sulu pointed out a mistake in his stance. Russell completely flew off the handle. Grabbed a sword, took most of security to take him down." Pike lowered his eyes at this. "But we got him, Jim."

"They, they should have caught this," Jim said, aware that he was becoming more and more incoherent as his anger grew. "He fucking stabbed Sulu." He searched Pike's eyes desperately for something more, something to explain this. Bones was in the main room looking at Sulu's vitals, while Jim had stormed into the small storage room as soon as he had seen Pike. 

"And he will be punished, Jim. Everyone saw him. There are already plans to send him to Epsilon Five." 

Jim relaxed a little at that. The Epsilon planetary system was so arid that hardly any life was possible. The really bad criminals were sent to its ringed moons or to similarly uninhabited planets, where they would be monitored closely and, most likely, live the rest of their dull lives out. If this were anybody but a Starfleet officer attacking another, then Russell would just be sent to a human prison. But Starfleet was military, as Jim never could forget, and things were different here. 

But at least all the bureaucracy, in this case, meant Russell would definitely get what he deserved. Jim let his shoulders slump down, suddenly ashamed at how furious he had been at Pike. It wasn't his fault. He ran a hand through his hair, which was dampened by sweat from all the craziness thrown at him in the past hour. 

"Listen, son," Pike said, accompanying his words with signs like he always did, and Jim wrinkled his nose, not caring if he looked petulant for it. The words always made his chest clench in equal measure of annoyance and affection. "It'll be alright," Pike continued. 

Jim would laugh at any other time, but they were trying to contact Sulu's sister. It wasn't looking good. 

"Yeah," Jim said, and if it was hard to swallow for a minute, then Pike didn't say anything. 

The following week wasn't Jim's best, academically-wise. He found himself worrying about Sulu and drifting away, making small mistakes on his classwork that had Herara raising his eyebrows questioningly. Xenolinguistics was his worst class already, so when the professor handed out Vulcan books for them to translate, Jim couldn't concentrate. How could he, when every time he commed Bones, he got more of the same? 

"He's stable right now, but the wounds are deep," Bones had said. He was given temporary leave from class so he could help Sickbay attend to Sulu, so he was always gone by the time Jim woke up. It felt a little empty, making his own breakfast in the silence, and privately missing the sound of Bones' voice. 

Nyota broke him out of his thoughts with a gentle tap to his shoulder. She looked at his holo-screen and saw that the passage hovering by his desk was only half-translated. Nyota looked to the side, where the professor was patiently trying to help a cadet go through the conjugations of a verb. Then she looked back over at Jim, and to his utter surprise, began to help him. 

She signed each word, though not so obviously that the professor saw, and helped Jim with the weird accent marks and complicated sentence structure. Jim was floored that she would risk getting yelled at in flawless Vulcan for him. Then again, that was what Bones had did: risked himself just to tell Jim about what had happened, because he would have wanted to know. 

Even off-board, they were still his crew, Jim thought, and something warm unfurled in his chest at the thought. 

\----

Sometimes Jim dreamed of space, and waking in his bed on the ground would make him feel strangely tied-down. Tonight was one of those nights. At midnight, he gasped awake, certain that he was still on the Enterprise, red lights flashing erratically, and the halls tipping as the ship dove to the ground. 

Christ. Was it too much to ask to get one good night of sleep? 

Jim got up, slipping on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt over his boxers. On a whim, he decided to check on Sulu again. Bones would nag him, but Jim didn't want to go to sleep, or even take his anger out in the gym. He was just tired, and wandering aimlessly through the halls in his civvies could only get him so far. 

Sickbay was so much quieter at night, and the only personnel there were surviving the night shift off coffee and stims, so Jim got through the doors without anybody asking why he was there. 

He almost thought he was dreaming when he saw Bones grinning at Sulu, who was sitting up in the biobed, eyes open and no longer looking terribly like a corpse as he had when he was asleep. 

Sulu's eyes widened when he looked over and saw Jim, and then he smiled tiredly. 

"Hey, Captain." 

He looked much less pale than he was when Jim had first seen him, and his shirt was off, revealing no sign of any injuries. Bones had done well-there wasn't even a scar, just some bruising where there had once been life-threatening stab wounds. 

Jim's grin was bursting as he waved a hand dismissively. "No, no, it's Jim when we're on the ground, Sulu," he said, pulling over a chair so he could sit by the biobed. Sulu relented, nodding. Bones waved a chirping tricorder over Sulu's face, then picked a dermal regenerator off a table crowded between the biobeds. It was almost like a magic wand. When he held the humming instrument over the yellowed bruises on Sulu's chest, they started to fade away, bit by bit. 

"You have a clean bill of health, Mr. Sulu," Bones said, pulling up a holo-screen with Sulu's chart on it. He used his pointer finger to quickly write the new details about Sulu's condition in midair. He made a flicking motion, and the screen disappeared. Bones shook his head. "These things get more and more fancy every day."

"What are you doing up? It's late," Sulu signed. He looked good, but Jim could tell that he was still recuperating by the way he signed: slowly, as if he had just woken up. He had been asleep for most of the week, anyway, still clinging to life as Bones and the rest of Sickbay fought to keep him. 

"Couldn't sleep," Jim signed with a shrug. 

There were flowers by the bed, some sort of sapphire-blue alien plant. "My sister brought them," Sulu signed, his smile growing. "Where is she?" Jim asked. Besides Bones and a few nurses, Sickbay was practically empty. "She had to report back to her squad," Sulu said, frowning a little. "But she visits me every couple days, and brings me rare plants from all the planets she's been to," he said. 

Jim wanted to ask about the day Sulu got hurt, but he didn't want to upset his friend. Hell, it was pretty upsetting for Jim himself. He'd rather geek out about weird flora with Sulu than talk about that. But the problem of Russell was bugging him, and he needed to scratch that itch or he'd never get any sleep again. 

"You want to tell me what happened?" Jim asked quietly, looking Sulu in the eyes. Sulu took a deep breath, then obviously regretted it, wincing. "Yeah," he said, nodding. "McCoy didn't tell you?"

"I know what that bastard did to you. What I don't know is why he did it," Jim said, clenching his teeth in frustration. "Pike won't tell me what he said in the confession. And he says you never even saw the guy unless it was in class. Why the hell would he do something that drastic?" he asked. 

"I don't know," Sulu signed. "All I did was say something about his fighting stance. And he just-attacked me. I didn't even know his name until he stabbed me," he said, mouth twisting into a bitter smile. He shrugged. "Sometimes people just...break."

Jim shook his head, unable to believe it. But then again, there wasn't any evidence to show that Russell had any motive to hurt Sulu other than the minor comment. Maybe the guy had just...snapped. And Sulu had been in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"Pasha!" Sulu exclaimed. "Karu," Chekov said, grinning cheerfully. "I have brought you snacks. Hello, Keptin," he said, giving a nod to Jim. "I guess I'll be going, then," Jim said, moving to get up so Chekov could sit by Sulu. "Oh, Keptin, you don't have to leave! I have enough for all of us. Nyota will be here after Beta shift, too. She iz pulling an all-nighter like the rest of us, too. We were very worried about you, Hikaru," Chekov said, throwing a mock-scowl in Sulu's direction, who rolled his eyes with a smile. 

"Uh...sure," Jim said. 

They talked and gossiped for a few minutes, all of them visibly relieved to see Sulu awake. Nyota came in just before dawn broke, dressed in the familiar red shirt and pants, which were tucked into black boots. "Hikaru, it's good to see you up," she said, smiling at him. "How are you?"

"Five by five," Sulu answered amicably. 

Starfleet cadets had their own secret language, it seemed. A mixture of old 20th century military slang and more recent neologisms, it had taken a while for Jim to pick it up. Especially since much of it couldn't be communicated to him through signs.

Still, Jim always paid attention to what people were saying, so he picked up a few things now and then. Non-uniform clothing was 'civvies', and cigarettes were 'coffin nails', though ones with lungs-friendly modified tobacco were more common these days. Even Nyota called the Physical Training class 'PT', and had once, to Spock's eternal amusement, called a new ensign 'greener than a Vulcan in plak tow'. 

Yeoman Rand appeared from one of the doors lining Sickbay's walls, and before it closed, Jim caught a glimpse of Bones, spread out on a cot on the floor. He winced when he saw that his friend hadn't even bothered to take off the white medical jacket and boots. Jim sighed when the door swung shut, hoping Bones, at least, can get some rest. 

Rand-or Janice, Jim reminded himself, they weren't onboard anymore-scanned Sulu with a number of complicated instruments, and declared that he could return to his advanced Biology and Botany classes today. There was some contained cheering-"Keep it down," Christine had shushed them, putting down her clipboard to sign it, too, causing Jim to pout. 

They had to say goodbye to Sulu after a while, but they would all be seeing him in some of their classes later. The group dispersed, rushing for coffee before the first lecture of the day started. 

Not Jim, though. After everyone else had walked away, he crept into the room where Bones lay, snoring slightly on his side. He looked peaceful, and Jim allowed a small smile to come to his face at the sight of Bones' messy hair and rumpled clothes. Jim almost wanted to let him keep sleeping, but he knew that Bones had a flight sim in four hours, and he probably wanted to study, even though he'd probably ace it.

Bones breathed in, out, in, steadily and quietly. And Jim threw a pen at his face. 

"Fuck. What-Jim? Fuck." Bones sputtered, checking the time on his comm. "Do you know how early it is-I just had a three-hour shift," he said, shooting Jim the mother of all glares, "And you threw a damn pen at me." 

"I didn't throw it that hard," Jim said defensively, looking as wounded as he could get away with. "C'mon, Bones. We need some serious studying for the sim."

Bones closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face. Probably trying to hide the apprehension that was starting to show on him, which was just so not okay. Jim grabbed one of his arms. "You're gonna do fine," he said firmly. He picked up the pen where it had fallen on the smooth white tile, and Bones immediately threw his hands up in one of the defensive blocks they had been taught in PT. 

"You," Jim said with a scowl, "Are a total drama queen. Give me your hand."

Bones peeked out from behind his arms warily. Jim rolled his eyes and grabbed Bones' palm, definitely not focusing on how warm it was. "I have to go to Astrophysics right now," he said, casually scribbling on Bones' hand, "And I would totally skip to help you, but I'm two strikes in, and my professor hates me, so." 

Bones turned his hand over. "2-3-2," he read, eyes narrowed, but then the realization dawned on him.

"Two orbits around the planet, check three times for life signs, then send two shuttles out for help," Bones said, almost word-for-word reciting the standard emergency regs from Starfleet's code. 

"See?" Jim flashed him a smile. "You'll do fine. Just remember that, and you'll be back on the Enterprise in no time."

He sat up, letting Bones' hand go reluctantly. "See you at 2200. I'm getting Thai," Jim said. Bones smiled at that, sitting up on the cot. "See ya, kid," he said, rubbing the numbers on his hand absently. 

As Jim walked out of Sickbay, he grabbed a Tellurian lollipop from the bowl on Christine's desk that was marked 'For Patients Only (This Means You, Mitchell)', and started to run down the hallways. He had exactly ten minutes to change into his reds and get to the science hall, but he wasn't worried. 

Jim's hair was greasy, his eyes were dark with lack of sleep, and he didn't stop running the whole time, bursting through the door to Astrophysics with his shirt inside-out and the world's biggest grin on his face. 

Later, when everything had wound down and he was in his bed again, he thought about Russell. Jim remembered Frank, and how any kind facade he kept during the day was destroyed if Jim acted up. He would just...break. Like Russell did. He wondered how it felt to get that angry, to get so pissed off that you just act without thinking, all control shattering. 

_That can't happen to me,_ Jim thought, pulling the sheets around him tighter. It was snowing outside, quiet and cold. 

_That won't happen to me._


End file.
